


Breath

by tootsuntodere (sweet_ricecake)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_ricecake/pseuds/tootsuntodere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles centered around Souji's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hakuouki.

**Breath**

**By Too Tsun To Dere**

 

            His first breath had been deep, very deep, and quick. A sudden intake of air that was expelled in the form of a loud cry as soon as the tiny lungs of his newborn body had processed it.

 

            Souji had no way of knowing it, of course, but to his sister Mitsu, who watched with baited breath and wide eyes as their mother struggled to bring life into the world, it was like seeing a tiny God crack from a porcelain shell.

 

*****

 

            As a small child, still living among his family, Souji loved to hold his breath underwater while bathing. His sister would time him, watching as his hair floated up in strange shapes, until Souji emerged with a smile as big as her proud one, a smile that turned into the sweet sound of infant giggles when Mitsu poked his ribs.

 

            “Are you a little kappa?” She would playfully ask, tickling him, “Have you traded places with Souji-chan? No human child can stay so long underwater, so please return him to me!”

 

            The price of returning Souji was always a rain of kisses upon his face, and only then would Souji allow her to take him from the warm water.

 

*****

 

            At nine, he was the fastest runner among the children of the village. His lungs worked at a fervent pace to fuel the muscles of his legs, bare feet pounding the dirt beneath him. Whenever he played with the other boys and girls, Souji never tripped. He hated losing, so his catlike movements were centered on a severe concentration that gave away to older, trained eyes, that the boy had potential to be a fearsome warrior.

 

            He had tripped that day, however, when Mitsu announced he would no longer live with them. Souji had bolted from the room, dodging all hands that tried to restrain him, and took to wherever his clouded mind would take him. It wasn’t far. His toe caught on a rock, splitting skin and nail, and he landed roughly against the ground.

 

            He tasted blood and tears and was painfully aware of how the air had been knocked out of him, leaving Souji gasping desperately as his sister came running after him, crying out his name.

 

*****

 

            Kondou Isami had a stupid face.

 

            At least, that’s what Souji secretly thought on his first days at the Shieikan Dojo. It was not true, of course. Kondou was only naïve, but then Souji did not know how to express that, so he settled for stupid instead.

 

*****

 

            Tasting blood and being left breathless quite quickly became sensations that Souji grew used to, and he hated himself for it. Oh, he hated the boys that beat him, for sure, but the distaste he felt for his helpless self, of his existence that was so useless as to not even be able to live with his own kin, hurt much more.

 

*****

 

            Kondou Isami had a stupid face, but he was also kind.

 

            Although Souji kept his cold attitude towards the young instructor, inside he felt a tiny spark of warmth that came with the remembrance of Mitsu’s proud smile that he could see even from beneath the water’s surface, distorted by the ripples.

 

            He wanted to see such a smile again.

 

*****

 

            Kondou had never before seen a child able to touch that primal fear that all living creatures carried within them, that crippling fear of being killed, of finding itself before a predator.

 

            At that match, as blood slowly painted Souji’s features red, the contrast it had with the white of his eyes made the green inside nearly glow. Even then, perhaps specially then, Souji had been a predator.

 

            Kondou had to protect him, and what would have become of Souji had the boy not received any kindness right then became a secret to the Gods.

 

*****

 

            He saw that smile again, and his need for it became a fever that would last a lifetime. Souji became the best swordsman of Shieikan. Souji became the Sword of the Shinsengumi. And Souji was willing to turn himself into any other form that could help Kondou achieve his dreams, even a pitiful, red-eyed creature.

 

            Should the occasion ever call for it.

 

*****

 

            Souji became sick.

 

            His body was treacherous, poisoned by the lungs that once made Mitsu smile. On his worse days, when Souji was forced to lay in bed, his body ripped apart by violent coughing fits, and he tasted blood ( _yet again_ , how many times now?), Souji would curse the memory of his sister’s smile, certain that it was his inability to let her go that was shortening his life.

 

*****

            Kondou Isami was dead, and Souji knew he had failed him. He had failed, he had lost, so what if he coughed up all of his blood?

 

*****

 

            He didn’t kill Hijikata. He couldn’t fail Kondou again. Souji protected him instead, for Kondou, for the Shinsengumi, for his friends, and his life was a holy incense burning brightly, hotly, red as the blood that spluttered from his mouth and the many bodies around him, Souji’s partners on his last dance with a sword.

 

            Souji was glad, however, that his breathing was even and calm as his body turned to ashes.

 

            His last breath, on his knees and gazing up to the sky, was calm and content.

 

 


End file.
